


headcanons

by Anonymous



Category: Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Headcanon, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kinda, Let Everyone Say Fuck, One Shot Collection, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, and wolf hates it, bc that's all i write apparently, first chapter is sad bc i wrote all of it at like 3 am which is sad boi hours, kipo is a martyr, lowkey suicidal kipo, uh oops?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24547306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: a collection of mini oneshots based on my kataow headcanons.
Relationships: Benson & Dave (Kipo and the Age of the Wonderbeasts), Benson & Kipo, Benson & Wolf (Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts), Kipo Oak & Wolf, Mandu & Kipo Oak
Comments: 5
Kudos: 85
Collections: Anonymous





	headcanons

**Author's Note:**

> *i wanted to write about a bunch of my little ideas without making them big things so here you go
> 
> *oops i corrupted kipo with my angst. it was only a matter of time tbh
> 
> *can you tell i love kipo and wolf’s relationship so much bc wow i love them. i might be here to provide kipo content but that content is solely wolf being soft for kipo
> 
> *my two ‘writing kipo’ modes are 1. kipo is hot and 2. kipo is sad and there is absolutely no in between
> 
> *i switch between past and present tense bc like,,,,, i use past tense for things that occur in the show but use present tense for the actual scene i’m writing but it gets confusing uhhhh just bear with me
> 
> *this chapter probably has triggers kinda in it so check tags and stay safe <3

1.

Kipo’s hands are calloused.

It’s not something Wolf notices easily; its hardly something she notices at all. Kipo’s fingers are slender and long, her hands a lot bigger than Wolf’s, but it’s not like Wolf has _examined_ them.

When Kipo asked about hand sanitizer, Wolf assumed she took good care of her hands.

She isn’t sure _how_ , exactly. There’s no hand products up on the surface, but she’s seen expired bottles on abandoned store shelves. Things like lotion and cream and moisturizer lined the shelves, but just because Wolf had never found any use for them didn’t that didn’t mean Kipo couldn’t.

There’s no time to take care of her hands when Wolf is busy running for her life.

Wolf’s own hands are worn and rugged, coarse from months of holding onto Stalky, hitting the ground, and swinging herself around the surface. She can’t remember the last time she saw her hands without blisters; she’s not even sure there _was_ a time her hands didn’t have blisters.

She hates them.

She hates how she can’t run her fingers over her hands. She hates how they’re uneven when she looks at them from eye-level. She hates how newer ones look yellow and she hates how there always seems to be new ones, because Wolf can’t go _one damn day_ without _some_ new scar, whether it’s a life-threatening cut in her stomach or a thick patch of skin.

But she also _can’t_ hate them because they keep her alive. Her hands don’t get as many cuts as they used to. She doesn’t drop Stalky unless her hands are sweaty. They’re more resilient to different textures.

Doesn’t stop her from hating them. They’re ugly.

But Kipo has them too.

Wolf doesn’t study Kipo’s hands. The only time she touched them was to steer Kipo away from danger, or that one time they compared the size of their hands. Kipo had won by a landslide, not that Wolf was surprised.

Wolf expected her hands to be soft. She expected them to be smooth and gentle, miniature pillows where her skin rises. She expected them to be clean and unsliced and austere.

Except... they aren’t.

When Wolf lets Kipo practice with Stalky, that’s when she notices.

She notices how Stalky never slips out of her grasp, even though Wolf herself dropped it when she was first learning. Even after there’s a lick of sweat on Kipo’s hairline, her hands keep their grip.

“Hi, Wolf!” Kipo greets enthusiastically, bearing a toothy smile. Her hair is sickled back a little more than usual, her forehead shiny in the moonlight.

Wolf steps out of the shadows. There’s no point in hiding when Kipo knows she’s there. “How’s practice going?”

“Good, I think.” Kipo turns back to Stalky, twirling the staff around in her hands. She slashes out at a tree, delivering a shallow cut to the bark. “Am I getting better?”

Wolf shrugs. “Probably. You were _already_ pretty good, though. Much better than I was.”

Kipo laughs at that, tilting her head back and imagining a younger wolf fumbling with the staff. For a second, Wolf questions why she said that, why she admitted weakness, but Kipo’s laughter makes her forget the reason.

Or maybe that is the reason. Wolf doesn’t really know.

She doesn’t know a lot anymore, apparently.

“I can’t imagine you being...” Kipo trails off, taking a hand off the staff and gesturing vaguely. “You use Stalky so confidently.”

“It... I didn’t have what I needed at the time,” Wolf says quietly, moving her gaze away from Kipo’s figure.

Kipo tilts a head and looks at her. “And what was that?”

“...Hands,” Wolf mutters, gazing up at the moon peeking between the trees.

Kipo raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t have hands?”

“No, I mean...” She opens her mouth, then closes it. Wolf shakes her head, growing defensive as she can’t give an answer. “It doesn’t matter.”

Kipo looks at her own hand, palm facing the sky. Her expression is twisted, eyebrows contorting together, scowl on her lips. But it’s gone almost as soon as it came. “Oh. Do you mean callouses?”

Wolf snaps her gaze back.

The way Kipo just... _says_ it so casually... like they aren’t unsightly. Like they aren’t deformities. Like they aren’t something Wolf has quietly hated for so, _so_ long.

Kipo smiles, and she holds out her hand, wiggling her fingers. Her palm faces Wolf, but she can’t make out any details from far away. “My hands have tons of callouses. It’s because I play guitar. The strings really hurt to push down on, but eventually my hands got used to it. My dad used to buy me skincare stuff, but nothing really worked and I rarely ever used any of it.”

Wolf finds herself walking forward before she even realizes it. The moonlight catches Kipo’s palm, and Wolf can see her hands clearly.

They’re not even. They’re not flabby.

Kipo’s fingers are lanky, her palm scratched, and her fingers are knobby and indented. Her finger-pads stick out, her whole hand rising and falling with hills of thickened skin and valleys of nothing. There are small, red bumps dotting areas of her skin, and the tips of her fingers are lighter in color.

Wolf holds up her own hand to Kipo’s. They aren’t quite touching, but there’s an almost magnetic pull between them. She’s not sure what she’s doing, but it feels right.

Wolf knows her hands are ugly. She knows they’re jagged and scarred and misshapen.

Kipo smiles softly anyways.

It’s just another way Kipo has surprised her. It shouldn’t really matter, and by this point, she shouldn’t even be shocked that Kipo has taken her expectations and smashed them to the ground.

Doesn’t stop Wolf from feeling an odd sense of melancholy.

Despite everything Wolf built, despite all the walls she worked hard to maintain, Kipo strode in and tore them down like it was a walk in the park. She clawed her way over them, kicking and screaming and reaching out the whole way. Somehow, Kipo has wormed her way into Wolf’s heart.

It’s such a small moment, one that doesn’t mean anything. One that _shouldn’t_ mean anything.

Wolf has callouses.

But Kipo has them too.

And that makes Wolf hate them just a little bit less.

* * *

2.

It’s not that Wolf thinks there’s anything wrong _with_ Kipo.

It’s just that something is definitely _wrong_.

Leading Kipo away from dangerous plants and holding her by the cuff of her shirt as she nearly walks off edges was one thing, and one thing Wolf didn’t mind doing. Her job was to protect Kipo, and if that meant constantly keeping an eye on the burrow girl in case she nearly smacked into a tree, Wolf would do it, no matter how stupid the job sounded.

But watching Kipo jump headfirst into danger without a second thought was another thing.

And it was _another_ thing entirely to have it happen _multiple times._

Wolf is a surface person. Up here, it’s a fight to survive. Every day involves some sort of battle, most of them similar to ones she’s fought in the past. Whether it’s sneaking around, foraging for a meal, or engaging with another mute, there‘s some sort of life and death battle at every turn.

Wolf is used to it. Kipo is not. Simple as that.

But she’s never met someone so... _reckless_.

Wolf would _never_ throw herself in the line of fire without a plan. She would _never_ risk her neck on the off chance she makes it out unscathed. She did _not_ come this far to lose to some low life or petty scuffle or stupid idea.

And Kipo is even _older_ than her. She has a lot more to lose.

Wolf doesn’t get it. Why be willing to throw away your life? Why put yourself in danger when you could just... avoid it? Why run the risk of dying after fighting tooth and nail to get to where you are?

At first, she thought it was an empathy issue. Wolf gets it; she doesn’t care as much about other people as she should. Sue her, she was wronged in the past. Constantly. If she has trust issues now, is it necessarily her fault?

But Wolf soon realizes it’s just a Kipo issue.

Benson is nice too, a lot nicer than Wolf is, but he’s also apprehensive to chucking himself into danger, unless it’s to save someone who could die or to repay some kind of debt. Wolf can understand that, respect it even. She personally won’t stick her neck out for someone else, _especially_ if they‘re dying; whatever injured them to that point, she wants no beef with. But she can commend Benson for feeling that way.

However, Kipo does it _excessively_ , even to people who don’t want her help. When Kipo is knocked down, she gets right back up again, chasing after her attacker with a smile and hand like its some personal challenge to help them. She’s surpringly persistent, often sticking her nose into other people’s buisness, but it’s endearing.

Until it puts her in direct danger.

It’s not the _worst_ thing in the world, Wolf supposes. It’s not like Kipo jumps in _completely_ planless. Usually she has _some_ sort of strategy, even if her plans are outlandish and ridiculous sounding. Somehow, she pulls them off, so Wolf can’t really be mad.

At least, she _couldn’t_ be mad. But right now, all Wolf feels is righteous fury.

“Are you insane?” Wolf asks plainly, not hissing, not snarling, not showing an ounce of anger. It’s a genuine question, one she’s thought of multiple times. “Like, really, are you? Because that little stunt back there was pretty insane.”

Kipo bites back a comment, eyes drifting down to her shoddily bandaged hands. She just _had_ to get involved again, had to leap into action, and for the first time, she had gotten seriously injured for it.

Wolf pinches the bridge of her nose. Kipo _had_ to help again, and all she has to show for it are cut hands and an annoyed Wolf.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Kipo moves to protest, but Wolf cuts her off. “Kipo, you _can’t_ keep doing this. Whatever ‘ _this_ ’ even is! I get that you just want to help everyone or whatever, but not at your expense!”

Kipo doesn’t look remotely guilty. If she’s guilty for _anything_ , it’s for making Wolf mad and not for putting herself directly into the line of fire. “I don’t want to lose you because you _had_ to take a bullet for someone else! I don’t want to lose you because you had the bright idea of becoming a martyr because someone _look_ ed like they needed help! Do you have a death wish?”

Kipo looks away, mumbling something she can’t catch, and Wolf’s annoyance spikes. “What did you just say?”

“I don’t care,” Kipo replies, eyes downcast, expression angry.

Wolf explodes. “What do you mean you don’t care? Does what I’m saying mean _nothing_ to you?! Is it all going in one ear and out the other?!”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The resigned tone makes Wolf stop in her tracks.

Kipo’s head is down, bangs hiding her eyes. Her hands lay in her lap, and her posture is deflated and defeated. She looks like an injured wild animal resigning itself to its death, and Wolf doesn’t like the look on her at _all._

“I don’t care about what happens to me. If I help someone else, that’s all that matters.”

“And if they don’t want your help?”

“Then I keep pushing.”

“And if you get hurt?”

“I don’t care.”

Wolf’s voice is oddly soft. “And if you die?”

Kipo laughs weakly, shoulders shaking. She looks up at Wolf, and there’s a sad smile on her face, yet a fire behind her eyes. “Didn’t you hear me? I don’t care.”

And Wolf’s heart _drops_.

“Death doesn’t scare me,” Kipo says, gazing down at the bandages wound around her hands. “I don’t mean that in like... an ‘ _I want to die_ ’ kind of way. I don’t actively seek death or anything. The idea... I don’t know. It’s just not scary.”

“Why not?” Wolf whispers.

Kipo looks her in the eye, and she gives a melancholic smile. “Because when I die, everything will be over, right? I won’t be aware of anything, so nothing will matter.”

Wolf wants to cry.

It’s a foreign feeling, but one she’s been feeling a lot lately. Her throat is clogged, and breathing is getting harder. She has to blink rapidly in order to not break down sobbing.

To hear Kipo, her blindingly positive, always smiling, constantly lending a helping hand friend, say she doesn’t care about her death... like Kipo’s death wouldn’t mean anything, like it wouldn’t utterly crush Wolf...

Wolf wants to yell at her. Wolf wants to punch it into her mind. Wolf wants to scream how Kipo is amazing and kind and selfless and her death would snap Wolf in half like a pathetically weak twig, but Kipo catches the look in her eye, and she smiles.

Because Kipo is always fucking smiling.

“There’s no changing my mind, Wolf,” Kipo says lightly, making eye contact with the younger girl. “Those are my views, and nothing you say is going to change them.”

Wolf almost cries.

But she doesn’t. She doesn’t tell Kipo how incredible she is. She doesn’t say how much Kipo is worth. She doesn’t yell or scream or cry, and she _certainly_ doesn’t break down.

But Wolf _does_ offer a hand. That’s what Kipo always does, and the least Wolf can do is repay the favor.

Kipo shouldn’t think that way, but she _does_ , and as much as Wolf despises it, nothing is going to change that.

Kipo will always throw herself into danger, and it’s up to Wolf to save her afterwards. It’s her job, after all.

* * *

3.

Benson and Dave have talked about burrows before.

Not in detail or an _intelligent discussion_ or anything. God knows Dave can’t have an _intelligent_ _discussion_ for shit.

It was more of... passing words, mentions of, “ _Things would be easier in a burrow_ ,” or, “ _I wonder how burrow people do this_.” It’s not that they hate the surface; Benson is a passionate advocate for the good parts of their world, but sometimes, burrow life seems easier.

A lot easier.

Burrows were like a myth. They knew they existed, but overall, they didn’t know much about them. They were a supposed refuge, a place where they wouldn’t have to worry about the mutes that terrorize the surface. Burrows were a place out of storybooks, a light in the darkness, an underground oasis.

But there was no chance of finding a burrow, no chance of escaping the surface, so they silently held onto their dreams and casually threw it into conversations. They both knew what they wanted, they both knew they wanted the comfort, the relief, the _safety_ , but it was unattainable. It was impossible. So they ignored it.

But then they meet Kipo.

When Dave first asks if she’s a burrow girl, Benson doesn’t miss the hopeful note in his voice. And when Kipo confirms it, the two share a look, silently cheering.

It’s not that they want to _use_ Kipo, oh no, far from it. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s an added benefit.

And at first, that’s why they help her. They make an offer, but the small Wolf child takes Kipo away.

So they steal from her. Nothing wrong with being a little petty, right?

And sure, being chased by the Mod Frogs sucks, but Benson doesn’t miss the silent fear in Kipo’s eyes, or the way she glances behind them, as if she’s afraid. She doesn’t know the surface like they do. If she gets captured, they won’t kill her or eat her or torture her, no. They’ll _use_ her. They’ll force her to betray her people, and Benson and Dave know about tightly knit bonds more than anyone else.

Which is why Benson and Dave unanimously agree to save her. It gets them captured in the process, but at least one of them has a chance of getting to a burrow.

But then, Kipo _comes back_ for _them_. And _then_ , Kipo lets the Mega-Bunny take away weird frog guy.

The same Kipo, who’s terrified eyes Benson will never forget, who looked at them with hopeful stars in her eyes when they first met, who stared back at them from the turtle with a mix of fear, sadness, and sorrow.

And she _came back_ for _them_.

“That was cold, Kipo,” Dave comments. “ _Respect_.”

And Benson thinks he summed it up perfectly.

Sure, the journey is dangerous, and sure, there’s times when Benson and Dave want to leave. Heck, they almost _do_ leave, but then they remember the way Kipo came back for them, despite her fear, and they _can’t_. For a moment, their own survival doesn’t matter. For a moment, they’re a part of something much _larger_ than themselves.

Kipo talks to the Mega-Monkey, like, a whole _conversation_. Dave’s words echo in Benson’s head.

_“Respect.”_

Kipo’s earned it.

Which is why the fear of losing hope hits so hard.

Realistically, it doesn’t make sense. It’s not that Benson thinks he’ll never _be_ happy again, it’s that he worries it’ll never _feel_ like that again. Yeah, the scenario was all fake, but the feeling _wasn’t_ , but what if it’s impossible to obtain again? What if he never sees neon lights or a cheering crowd again? Would the burrow have that? Is there any point in chasing after it if it doesn’t?

But it feels much better to _earn_ the cheers, to _earn_ the rush, to _earn_ the _respect_ , and Benson likes real happiness a lot better than the fake one.

As the adventure continues, Benson and Dave grow more and more excited. The prospect of living in the safety of a burrow, surrounded by rock and lights and people, is becoming more attainable by the minute.

Until Wolf leaves.

Benson chases after her, not because of some hero complex, not because he doesn’t respect her decision, not because he can’t tell there’s a deeper reason behind her choice, but because Benson and Dave know tightly knit bonds better than _anyone_ else. After everything they’ve been through, the burrow won’t be the safe without all five of them. And Benson won’t let Wolf leave for a shallow reason like Kipo being part mute.

The five of them are _family_ , and they’re reminded of that fact when Kipo kicks up Wolf’s spear and holds it against the wolves’ throats. Kipo is the very definition of earned respect, and Benson can see in the way Wolf sneaks glances at Kipo that the smaller girl is going to stay.

They follow all the clues. They journey to all the locations. They help out mutes along the way. It’s high time they’re rewarded.

And rewarded they are.

Kipo’s dad has an air of _warmth_ around him, like Benson is being hugged even when he’s not. He can see love radiating off of the man, and Kipo bounces on her toes and Wolf looks around, and Benson and Dave silently agree this is the perfect burrow life they’ve been dreaming of.

Sure, the stares and whispers suck, and sure, the constant questions are annoying, but Benson doesn’t care because _holy crap that’s a cute boy_ and Dave doesn’t care because he revels in attention.

It’s everything they could’ve ever dreamed of.

Which is why when Benson and Dave find Kipo on a roof, they’re confused.

Confusion swells into concern when they hear muffled sobs. The two share a look, before hesitantly approaching.

“Hey, Kipo,” Benson greets, slowly making his way over and sitting next to the girl. “What’s wrong?”

Kipo’s hand is over her mouth, and her eyes are blown wide when Benson speaks, but before she has a chance to respond, Dave is talking.

“Oh no, not tears. How do you handle tears? Do you know how to handle tears? I don’t know how to handle tears.”

Kipo sniffles, blinking rapidly as she gets over the shock of being found. “It’s alright,” she says, her voice stifled by her hand.

“It’s clearly _not_ alright, but okay,” Dave says, sitting down.

Benson places a hand on her shoulder. “You can talk to us. What’s up?”

“I just...” Kipo waves her hands vaguely, sniffling and looking up to the ceiling before quickly gazing down again. “It’s kinda stupid...”

“Feelings aren’t stupid!” Benson declares, shifting a little closer should his friend need a shoulder to cry on. “Everyone feels things. Except Wolf. Wolf feels _nothing_.”

Kipo laughs a little at that. “That’s not true,” she half-heartedly protests.

“Is it?” Benson gives a smile. “I’m pretty sure Wolf has two modes: fight and fight a smile.”

“That girl doesn’t know _how_ to smile,” Dave pipes up.

“Yes she does!” Kipo says, laughing. She leans back on her hands, eyes rising from the ground. “I’m sure she...”

Kipo trails off as soon as her gaze hits the ceiling, and Benson sees her blink back a new wave of tears. “Oh no, no, no, no. The goal was to make you _not_ cry!”

Kipo presses her lips together, shoulders grimacing. Benson and Dave shoot each other a quick look, as if they can telepathically communicate.

“Kipo, you always help everybody,” Benson starts. “You never let anyone go without your help, even if they try to deny needing it. So... let us help you?”

“Yeah! Get a taste of your own medicine!” Dave shouts, and although it’s usually a threatening phrase, it has an air of comfort to it.

Kipo lets her eyes drift upwards, eyeing the rocky roof. “I just...”

It surprises both Dave and Benson when Kipo gestures big and exclaims, “I just miss looking up and seeing the stars! Like... I get that things are much safer down here, but is it wrong to _miss_ the surface, even a little bit? Plus it’s not like...”

She clamps her mouth shut, looking down at the ground, eyebrows contorting together before they abruptly soften, like she has some sort of emotional whiplash. Kipo sighs. “It’s not like things are perfect here, either. You saw how Hoag acted towards Wolf. Imagine how they’d act once they find out... about... you know.” She gestures up and down her arm.

Benson and Dave know tightly knit bonds better than anyone else, and they know Wolf has unintentionally installed the fear of being left by people she lives in Kipo. So they can’t even imagine how Kipo must feel keeping this secret. They can’t imagine how she’d feel if her burrow, her _people_ , turned their backs on her.

“I mean, the burrow still beats dying,” Dave comments, and Benson harshly whispers that that’s not helpful.

“I know that. I just...” She sighs again, shaking her head. “It’s dumb. I told you it was dumb.”

“Correction: you said it was stupid, which it’s not.” Benson leans back so he’s next to Kipo. “It’s not dumb either. I guess it makes sense to miss a new environment and have to go back to your old one. I’d miss the burrow if we had to go back to the surface.”

“Plus, what’s all this talk about ‘ _things aren’t perfect here?_ ’” Dave asks. “You’re always raving about the burrow, and it seems perfectly good to me.”

“I mean... it’s not that it isn’t good. There’s a great community, and people are generally really nice. But... like, for example, if one person gets sick, it spreads through everyone. I remember... there was one time where a particularly bad illness spread, and a lot of people died.” Kipo looks down, placing her hands in her lap and wrinkling her nose. “I walked over to a wall... when people die, there’s nowhere for their bodies to go, so they just... stick them in the ground next to us. Sometimes you can smell it.”

Benson’s own nose furrows. For all his time on the surface, it was rare to come across bodies laying around. He’s walked on a few... um... predator verses prey battles, but its not like the mutes dump bodies into the streets. It’s like an unspoken rule. He can’t imagine knowing there are dead people buried in the walls beside him, and suddenly the rocky barriers don’t look the same.

“Also, people are really protective over the farms. I got too close as a kid, and I was chased off. And sometimes, they’ll be shortages, and you’ll get like... a potato and water bottle per day and you have to ration it.”

Food and water isn’t necessarily hard to come by, but that doesn’t mean all of it is useable. A big appeal of burrows is a constant supply of... well, _supplies_ , so to hear that’s a lie?

“Everyone is constantly in fear of being breached, especially now,” Kipo continues. “People got... relaxed, because our old burrow hadn’t been breached in fifty or so years. People thought they were finally safe.”

“But they weren’t,” Benson finishes. “Nowhere is truly safe.”

And that’s the scariest thing of all.

There’s no point in running, no point in fighting, no point in hiding... when there’s nowhere to go. The only escape is to die, but to die is to give up, so they survive, but they never truly _live_. They’re never truly _free_.

Benson and Dave liked to believe burrows were some safe haven, a perfect place where danger doesn’t exist and the mutes couldn’t hurt them. It didn’t matter if burrows had their own set of issues, because surely, they had to be better than the surface?

But... are they?

“I felt like I was making progress,” Kipo whispers, staring up at the ceiling. “I know I wasn’t up there for long, and I don’t know what it was like before... but... I don’t know. I thought I was changing things.”

When Kipo turns and looks directly into Benson’s eyes, a surprising sense of dread washes over him, his stomach dropping.

Kipo’s eyes are empty. Kipo has lost hope.

The most optimistic, positive, _hopeful_ person Benson has ever met has lost hope.

Forget what he said before. _This_ is the scariest thing of all.

“If we keep running from our problems, what happens when there’s nowhere left to go? If everywhere is dangerous, are we ever truly free?”

Benson and Dave are starting to think the answer is _no._

**Author's Note:**

> *iiiiiiiiiii don’t know when i’ll update bc i just write these whenever i’m bored and i have like 5 other ongoing fics so this is kinda on the backburner but kinda not
> 
> *i have way too many headcanons and not enough time b4 s2 drops so uhhhhhh hnnnnnnN


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